The intimacy of watching television is different than bonding with movies or music. Whenever I enter new periods of confusion in my life, I make it a point to rewatch the The Graduate (1967) or blast the electric “I-don’t-give-a-fuck” Live 1966 “Royal Albert Hall” version of Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone.” I pursue the familiar wisdom born of disillusionment in these pieces of art because it’s comforting and gives me hope. Television shows come to me as ever-changing episodes that demand my attention in the present moment. Whatever happens in my life between these installments informs my perspective on the stories and characters.
Cinephellas 